


Omake Files of a Mad Man

by chadmaako



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:05:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadmaako/pseuds/chadmaako
Summary: A series of random one-shots and a few multi-chapter works that I've cobbled together over the years that I've either lost steam on or simply had no intention of writing beyond the scenes in question. Some may go on to become full-fledged works. Just the ramblings of a mad man, mostly. I hope you enjoy. If there are any of these works that you read and would like to continue, by all means leave a comment and let me know. Just because I have nothing for them, doesn't mean someone else doesn't. Not sure when I'll be updating this. Some stories will contain original characters as well as established characters from various canons. And the chapters will be in order, but won't always be consecutive. Just a heads up.





	1. Hell Comes to Hog Town

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked along the corridors making their way to their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Both Hermione and Ron could see Harry’s consternation. “What’s the matter, Harry?” The frizzy haired girl asked.

He looked at her with nervous eyes. “I’m just wondering who they got to fill the position this year.” He offered. “From what I’ve been given to understand, at the time of my trial, Dumbledore hadn’t found anyone yet.”

“I heard he even contacted people in America,” Ron said. “I didn’t even know there were wizards and witches in the states.”

Harry and Hermione both nodded. “During the tournament last year, the Salem Witch’s and Wizard’s Academy was present. They didn’t compete, but they were there.” Harry said.

Hermione looked at Ron narrow-eyed. “As large as America is, how could you think that, Ron?”

“I just…” He looked at Harry and shrugged. “I don’t know. Mum and dad never said anything. I figured of any of the wizarding families, _mine_ would have family in the states.”

Harry chuckled. “Some long lost brother, Ron?”

Again, he just shrugged.

“Well, I heard from Lavender, who heard Pansy talking to Blaise, who was saying that Draco told him we actually might have _two_ instructors this year. And that they’re brothers.” Hermione said.

“So you have no idea who it is,” Harry said, looking at her.

“Not with any degree of certainty, no.” She admitted. “But I’m excited.” She added, smiling. “I had heard that if Dumbledore couldn’t find someone, they were going to appoint Dolores Umbridge.”

Harry’s heart clenched in his chest. He remembered the sickly sweet way she smiled at him all through his trial. The very prospect of his expulsion from Hogwarts seemed of particular pleasure to the woman. He couldn’t _imagine_ how horrible the year would have been if the toad had been placed in charge of _actual_ students.

Harry’s ears perked up as they approached the classroom. “Do you two hear music?” He asked, curiously. Many of the students in the halls were surprised. “What _is_ that?”

Hermione smiled brightly. “That’s Creedence Clearwater Revival.” She said, turning to Ron and Harry. “My father listens to this. I believe this is _Run Through The Jungle_ from their Cosmo’s Factory album, circa 1970.”

“I like it,” Ron said, immediately bobbing his head.

Harry, for his part, wasn’t sure what to make of it. Vernon always listened to horrible music from the…he wasn’t actually sure what era it was from. All he knew is that it sounded terrible.

They entered the room and found the music coming from an extremely large stereo that looked as if it had been pieced together from various bits and bobs. Huge speakers sat in the four corners of the room. A silver and black chrome cassette deck sat on a shelf by the office door.

Two men were in the room waiting as the class began to make their way in. One of the pair had a head of shoulder-length dark hair and serious eyes. His dark blue denim jacket hung on his lean frame as he leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed and his booted feet up on the desk.

The second man appeared to be a bit shorter, but a fair bit more muscular. His hair was cut almost military short and he wore a blue long sleeve sweater with the sleeves pushed back over his thick forearms. His eyes were every bit as serious but carried a very distinct inner humor in them. He was leaning against the desk as the students came in. His lips were pursed and he was pantomiming playing the drums as he watched the children.

“Okay,” Harry said, dragging the word out as he took his seat with his mates. “This is different.” He looked to Hermione and Ron. “Definitely American.” Both of them nodded to him.

After a few minutes of everyone getting settled, the short-haired man moved over and turned off the stereo. He turned and moved up to the front of the class and wrote **_WINCHESTER_ ** across the blackboard, then underlined it twice. He dropped the chalk and spun to stand in front of the desk. “Good morning, class. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts or what me and my brother like to call Evil Killin’ One-Oh-One.” He began pacing. “My name is Dean Winchester, that there is my brother Sam.” He pointed to the man behind the desk, who simply waved. “Say Hi, Sam.”

“Hi, Sam.” The man offered, nonchalantly, earning a chuckle from a lot of the students in the room.

Dean looked at him and rolled his eyes before looking back to the class. “You’re learning everything there is to know about wand magic and quick casting, so there’s no sense in us goin’ down that road.” Hermione’s hand shot up. Dean looked at her and turned to the desk, picking up the seating chart.

“Granger, Hermione,” Sam said, staring at the girl. “Go ahead.”

“Showoff,” Dean said. He whirled and smiled at her. “Yo, curly-Q. What’s your question?”

Hermione blushed a little but nodded. “Does that mean you’re _not_ going to be teaching us magic?”

“Sam?” He asked, looking at his brother.

“Not as you know it.” Sam returned. “I’m going to teach you about magic that I can guarantee _none_ of the other teachers in this school know anything about. But that’ll come later.”

The answer seemed to please Hermione.

“But right now, it’s time to learn about the basics,” Dean said, turning to the desk. He opened the large duffel bag. He removed what looked like a sawed-off shotgun. Many of the children gasped sharply. “This is the Winchester Model 1901, lever action shotgun. This particular model has been cut down for easy transport and concealability.” He jacked the lever to demonstrate. “Twelve-gauge diameter,” He pointed to the barrel. “Standard grip, good for righties and lefties.” He set it down and pulled a belt of shells from the bag. “A word on firepower. You’ve got your standard buckshot, birdshot, flechette round and solid slug.” He took the four out and set them down. “Then for the supernatural, we’ve some special concoctions.” He began pulling shells out one at a time. “Silver nitrate round, good for vampires and werewolves. Rock salt, good for ghosts, poltergeists and phantoms.” He waved the bullet around. “Got a few of those here, I’ve noticed. Cool guys, just creepy as hell. But that piss-ant Peeves starts static, he’s eatin’ one of these babies.” He set it down and moved on. “You got a holy-water gel round, also for vampires, but works on a lot of demons, too. Then you got a wonderfully dangerous white phosphorus round, or what we in the business call a Dragon’s Breath round.” He grinned. “My favorite. This baby burns at three thousand degrees Fahrenheit and turns everything you fire it out of into a single use flamethrower. Aside from things without a body, this boy will torch anything. Then we’ve got the…”

Harry buried his face in his hands as Dean went on to describe a lot of other makes and models of firearms. “Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Given my track record with Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors?” He looked at Hermione and Ron. “I just _know_ I’m getting shot by the end of the year.”

The pair looked at him. They looked to the two brothers. Dean was doing all the talking and seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself.

The two youngsters suddenly understood that Harry was right. And both couldn’t help but whimper in sympathy for him.


	2. Harry Pavlovena; Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This particular chapter is a test balloon of sorts. I have always kind of toyed with the idea of what Harry would be like if he were to have been raised by Balalaika from the Black Lagoon anime series. This chapter begins that epic journey.  
> How much different would Harry be?  
> This is just my take. Hope you enjoy. I'll probably remove this chapter at some point and give this story it's own entry, but for the time being, it remains in the realm of 'The Mad Man'.

Balalaika pulled back the sleeve of her wine red suit jacket and looked at her watch. “We are nearing the deadline,” She said, her voice calm and collected. The sound of the helicopter she and her second in command shared nearly drowned out her voice.

“You know I’d never question you in front of the men, Kapitan,” Boris began.

She lifted her dark eyes to him. “Why am I doing this, Sergeant?” She asked him, a smile threatening the straightness of her lips. At his nod, she sighed heavily. She reached into her jacket and pulled a folded letter out and offered it to him. She said nothing.

 

**_Dearest Sofiya,_ **

**_I hope this letter finds you well. I am sorry that I have not reached out to you for so long. And it pains me further that I must do so under such unusual and difficult circumstances. But I have grown quite desperate and unfortunately, necessity dictates that I must reach far abroad to hopefully rectify the rather significant bind I find myself in._ **

**_I am given to understand that, since our parting those years ago, you have gone on to become a person of some significant importance in the city of Roanapur. It is, sadly this power and these ties that prompts me to ask a rather large favor of you and your compatriots._ **

**_Lily and James Potter are dead. The Dark Lord has slain them and made an attempt on their young son’s life. For reasons that escaped me, his attempt has failed. Young Harry was taken from his parents’ home in Godric’s Hollow and given to his only living blood. They are the worst kind of people imaginable. I cannot in good conscience leave him in such a place, but where I am going, Harry cannot follow. I plan to find the one responsible for betraying their secret._ **

**_If you do not hear from me within seventy-two hours of receiving this letter, you can assume that my attempt has failed. Either way, I am not able to care for young Harry as I would wish to. I ask that you do so. Go to 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Britain and retrieve James and Lily’s son. Remove him from the loveless home he has been placed in and take him far away from all that seeks to harm him._ **

**_I know you wished for a child of your own. I know you will love him and raise him with care and compassion. He deserves no less._ **

**_Please, Sofiya, I have no one left to turn to that I trust._ **

****

**_Forever your tovarishch,_ **

**_Sirius Black_ **

 

Boris stared at the letter an additional moment before folding it back up and offering it to her. “Who is he?” He asked, simply.

“Before I joined the military I was in a rather significant bind,” Balalaika said, tucking the correspondence away. “If not for Sirius Black, I wouldn’t be here now.” She looked at her second. “I owe him my life.”

Boris nodded. He understood the value of loyalty and the squaring of debts. Ruthless killers all, the members of Hotel Moscow weren’t without honor. In fact, quite the opposite. The group as a whole _prided_ themselves on it. If anyone of their number gave their word, it was stronger than steel. “I understand you wanting to do right by a comrade,” He began. “But from what the letter says, he is with family. For good or ill, it is where he belongs.”

“As soon as I received this, I have been having the family watched.” Balalaika frowned. “Their treatment of him is appalling. Even by _our_ standards, Sergeant.”

 _That_ shocked him. Being raised in a Russian state-run orphanage, Boris understood full well how horribly children were treated in the motherland. To know that all he had been through that Harry was being subjected to worse was just… “Do you plan to raise the boy in Roanapur?” He asked her. As she nodded, he narrowed his eyes. “It is going to prove difficult,” He offered. “The boy will be a target. You know this.”

She again gave a curt nod. “He will,” She said, sharply. “But woe be to any that make the attempt, Sergeant.”

He met her eyes and saw the truth of it. He knew Balalaika better than anyone. Because of injuries suffered in the line of duty, she would never know the joy of her own children. There were days when he could see her melancholy and wished deeply that he could do something to remedy it. He knew, however, deep down that he could not. He hadn’t the power to change what brought her low. The letter, in his purview, couldn’t have come at a better time.

Again Balalaika looked at her watch. She blew out a breath and looked to him. “It is time.”

Boris lifted the headset and settled it in place. He adjusted the microphone and turned to the pilot of the chopper. “Take us down,” He said, sharply.

The man nodded and pushed the control stick forward, descending into the small British neighborhood. The Black Hawk Helicopter touched down on the lawn of the large home with ease. Boris threw back the sliding door and stepped out and to the side. Balalaika emerged right behind him. He reached in, grabbed the drab green Russian military jacket and turned, draping it off of the blonde’s shoulders. He calmly followed her as she made her way up to the house.

A short round man with huge double chins, a thin mustache, and great belly exited the home. “What is all this racket about?” He shouted, looking at the pair. “Who in blazes are you?” He snarled at Balalaika.

“Busy.” She said, shoving him aside. She stepped through the front door and into the house, proper. She looked about and sighed.

A tall woman with a long, skinny face and curly dark hair came rushing out of the kitchen. “Vernon? What’s happening?” She asked. She stopped at the sight of Balalaika and her second. “Who are you, people?”

Balalaika looked to the pair, one at a time. “I will ask this once and only once.” She turned to the fat man. “Where is Harry Potter?”

“I don’t have to stand here and…” It was the last thing he said before Boris caught him across the jaw with a hard right cross. He fell to the floor, out like a light. The woman screamed and rushed to her husband.

Balalaika caught her as she raced past by the hair and spun, slamming her back first into the wall. She held her several inches off the ground by her crown of black curls. “My patience grows thin, _suka_!” She leaned closer to the woman. “ _Where-is-he?_ ”

She pointed a trembling finger toward the door beneath the stairs. “In there,” She said, terror, causing her voice to shake.

Balalaika spun, throwing her onto the floor beside her fallen spouse and moved determinedly toward the door in question. She pulled it open to see a child of no more than a year and a half laying upon a small bed in the dust and cobweb infested space. “Despicable.” The boy turned to regard her as she looked down upon him. His green eyes carried no fear. Instead, they were filled with wonder and curiosity. “Come _zverenysh_. Let us leave this place.” She reached down and scooped him up in her strong arms.

The woman had managed to lift her husband into a sitting position against the door. She was lightly slapping his face, trying to roust him. She turned to Balalaika, anger in her eyes. “You can’t take him!” She said, rising to her feet. “I won’t let you!” She rushed at the blonde, her fingers hooked into claws.

Balalaika’s foot shot out, catching her in the stomach. The brunette stopped in her tracks, doubling over. She collapsed to her knees, holding her abdomen. Balalaika stepped past her, giving her not a second thought. “Sergeant?” She made the address a question.

“Kapitan,” He returned, understanding his instructions, unsaid as they were. He pulled the AK-47 from beneath his jacket as Balalaika made her way to the helicopter, the young boy in her arms.

She heard the Russian assault rifle stutter in two quick bursts. She paid them no mind as she climbed into the chopper and set Harry down on the seat, making certain he was strapped in. She stared at him a moment and reached over, pushing a lock of hair from his face. She saw the angry scar that he’d received just days before. “We must do something about that.” She said, giving him a smile.

The boy was far too young to understand most of what was happening to him. He reached his hand up and pointed to the scars on the side of her face. She leaned down, letting him run his fingers over the scarred flesh. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all. She gave him a warm look. He giggled and grinned at her. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her feel good to see. The pilot made his way to London Heathrow Airport and descended to the tarmac beside the massive 747 airliner.

Balalaika stepped out with Harry in her arms and proceeded onto the plane while the members of Hotel Moscow went about preparing the Black Hawk for travel within the hold of the aircraft. She carried him to the upper level of the plane and set him down in a seat, taking care to belt him in yet again. She could tell he was tired. She couldn’t blame him as she was rather fatigued herself. She rested a hand upon his head. “Fear not, _zverenysh_. Where you will be going, the world will be at your feet. I will make sure of it.”

He looked up at her with innocent eyes. She brushed the hair from his face. She saw the scar and nodded. It would be her first order of business when she returned to Roanapur.

 

Balalaika sat quietly as the woman knelt, looking intently at the scar on the boy’s forehead. “Well…” The petite mystic began, cocking her head this way and that. “It’s magical, I can tell you that.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “I’d figured that much out for myself, Malai. I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t already know that. Tell me something that I _don’t_ know.”

“Alright.” The woman said, nodding. She closed her eyes and rested her palm against the scar. For several seconds she sat silent. Harry stared cross-eyed at the woman’s hand. Her brow furrowed. Eyes closed, Malai drew a sinister smile and laughed. It was eerie and high pitched. Her face then twisted into a mask of fear. “Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” She called, her voice thick with a British accent. Menacing glee suddenly replaced the terror on her features. “Stand aside you silly girl…stand aside _now_.” Again the fear was present. “Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead. Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy!” She then threw her head back and screamed. She was thrown back from the boy to land heavily on the floor.

Harry suddenly began bawling. Balalaika immediately scooped him up and cradled him against her. “Shhh. It is alright _zverenysh._ None of that, now.” She said, bouncing him lightly. “Malai? Are you alright?” She asked the woman.

She sat up, shaking her head. “I will be.” She leaned against her desk. “It was the last memory he has of his mother. She was killed by some dark wizard. I don’t know who. What I do know is that after killing Harry’s mother, he then turned his magic on Harry himself. Something happened.” She pointed to her own forehead then to Harry who had stopped crying and was leaning against Balalaika sniffing. “A part of his attacker has somehow latched onto Harry.”

“What do you mean ‘latched onto’?”

“I couldn’t really say. All I _can_ say is that whatever it is isn’t going to give him up easily.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen magic this powerful.”

“So you’re saying this dark wizard has somehow…what? _Possessed_ Harry?” She asked, watching Harry as he again went back to playing with the little toy action figure. He looked up at her, smiling.

Malai shrugged. “As good a term as any, I suppose.”

“So I need a Catholic Priest?” Balalaika asked.

Malai chuckled. “Oh, no.” She again shook her head. “You’re going to need something older and stronger than that. As I said, this is buried deep and it has its claws in firmly. This is way beyond my magic.” She looked directly at the blonde. “You know where you need to go.”

Balalaika rose to her feet regarding Harry a moment. “Very well.” She said, nodding. She turned back to Malai. “Thank you. Your fee will be deposited into your account.”

The woman rose to her feet and offered her hand to Balalaika. “I hope you get him the help he needs. Whatever is in there isn’t going to do the boy a single service. His influence is as nothing right now, but as the boy gets older, it will only grow.”

“I’ll see to it,” Balalaika said. She shifted Harry higher up on her hip and left the office. She set Harry in his car seat and made certain he was secured and climbed in herself. “Call the airport, Sergeant. We’re going to Luoyang.”

“Yes, Kapitan,” Boris said, lifting the phone to his ear.

 

Shi Yongxin, Abbot of the Shaolin Monastery stood patiently as the Black Hawk Helicopter descended from the skies and touched down onto the grounds just outside the front gates. He smiled widely when he saw Balalaika step out of the chopper, her customary military jacket draped about her shoulders. Her second, Boris carried a small boy of no more than a year and half of age in his strong arms.

The pair made their way toward him. “Master Yongxin.” Balalaika offered, dipping into a low bow. “It is good to see you again.”

He returned her gesture. “Balalaika.” He said, smoothly. “I would say the same.” The monk took a step and looked at Harry. “This must be the boy you contacted me about.”

“This is Harry.” She said. “It would seem something nefarious calls the boy home.”

Yongxin nodded. “I can feel the darkness within.” He said, resting a finger upon Harry’s scar. “Nothing but turmoil awaits him if it is not removed.”

“Malai said the same. She said ancient and powerful faith would be required.” Balalaika looked to the monk. “Naturally, I thought of you.”

“Our strength runs deep,” Yongxin said, caressing Harry’s cheek with his thumb. “We will do what we must to free the boy of this toxic influence.” He motioned them to follow. “Come.”

Balalaika turned to Boris and took Harry from his arms. “Remain here, Sergeant. I will return presently.”

“Kapitan.” He said, nodding. He wasn’t happy about letting her go alone but understood that it was unavoidable. She carried the boy into the temple beside Yongxin.

Taking a chance, the pilot turned to Boris. “What is she going to do?”

Boris didn’t take his eyes off the woman and the child in her arms. “Saving his soul.” He offered back. “And her own heart.” He added quietly.

 

Balalaika had never seen the chamber, though she knew of its existence. It was rather large, with ancient Mandarin text scrawled upon the floor and walls. She knew that the room was over two and a half millennia old, yet not one of the carvings had faded and no dust had settled anywhere. Upon the center of the floor was an intricately engraved circle.

She could read the script and knew that only the most powerful of ceremonies required such focus. Harry was placed in the middle of the circle by one of the many monks that had accompanied them down.

“Know, Sofiya,” Yongxin began, calling her by her true name. “That what you witness none outside of this order has ever seen. As such we ask for your complete silence. The incantation is difficult and any distractions could have dire and possibly deadly consequences for all involved.”

Balalaika gave him a bow. “I understand. You have my word I will be silent.”

Yongxin nodded. If the woman gave her word, it was as good and solid as the stone they stood upon. “We shall begin.” He motioned to the large chair that had been brought down and sat against the wall. “Have a seat and watch.”

She moved over and took her seat. She nervously watched as the monks, twelve in all took their places. She understood the significance of the number; the twelve psychic powers in Buddhism. While not a Buddhist, or indeed a member of any organized religion, for obvious reasons, she did understand the tenets of a great deal of faiths. Buddhism was no exception.

Harry sat upon the stone, idly playing with his toy. He wasn’t sure what was going on and didn’t seem overly concerned. He looked to Balalaika, giving her a happy childish smile. She returned it, giving him a little wave. In the week since she’d rescued the boy, she’d fallen completely in love with him. His infectious smile and innocent manner brought a joy to her life that she’d thought never to find again.

A soft rhythmic chanting began to fill the room. The etching upon the stone began to glow a soft iridescent blue. She knew at that moment that very, very powerful and ancient forces were at work.

Harry seemed absolutely fascinated. His eyes were everywhere as the monks cast their magic. Their voices rose and fell. The glowing of the runes followed their timbre.

The boy suddenly became uncomfortable. He clutched at his forehead and began crying. As he did, the circle about him flared to life in an angry red. Balalaika had to fight not to rush to him and scoop him up, calling the whole thing off. She knew this was important. His very soul could suffer if the spell wasn’t completed.

Harry was screaming in pain, but the monks were undeterred. For long moments the eldritch glow in the surrounding room flickered. Balalaika could feel the powers of enlightenment and inner strength doing battle with the darkness and rage that permeated Harry.

Then, finally, a grotesque miasma of black oily smoke seemed to rise slowly from the scar upon Harry’s forehead. The boy had cried so furiously for so long that his voice had become hoarse. She knew that his pain must be unbearable. She bit her lip doing her best not to rush to him. The obsidian fog coalesced in the air. A face appeared, screaming, roaring so loudly and deeply that it shook the room. The monks, however, continued, unfazed. The evil in their midst was frightening, but these were men of knowledge, men of a supreme confidence. They would be victorious. It was a simple matter to them.

Evil would not prevail this day. Because they deemed it so.

With one last defiant bellow, the black shapeless mass was blasted away into whatever hell awaited it.

Harry slumped to the floor, unconscious. Balalaika paused but a moment longer then ran his side. She dropped to her knees and picked him up, clutching him to her chest. The scar, once angry and red, was rapidly fading.

She lifted tear filled eyes to Yongxin. She opened her mouth to speak, but he simply shook his head. “For the child.” He said, softly. With that, he and his monks rose and exited the room.

Balalaika looked down at the sleeping boy. “ _Moy prekrasnyy syn_.” She said, smiling at him.


	3. Harry Pavlovena; Chapter 2

Harry sniffed loudly as he walked down the hallway. He knew his mother was going to be angry with him. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes to clear away the tears. He again looked at the broken action figure in his hands. Balalaika had gotten it for his fifth birthday. Less than a month and it was already broken. He’d been careful, but it had broken anyway. He began crying because he knew that she would be upset with him.

Never mind the fact that she hadn’t once raised her voice to him, spanked him or disciplined him in any way. She’d never once shown any sort of disappointment in him. But he was young and didn’t understand any of that. He only saw a broken toy and felt horrible for it.

He came to the door of her office and reached up, gripping the handle in his tiny fist. He turned it and pushed it open.

There were several men in the room with his mother. Harry recognized all of them. They were ‘mommy’s men’ and Harry’s uncles. He loved each and every one of them. They were incredibly nice to him and smiled at him whenever they saw him. He would always smile and wave back. The only time he wasn’t allowed to was when they were working, his mother had said.

Balalaika herself stood in her patented wine red skirt suit. She did, however, have a pair of black leather gloves over her hands. His uncle Boris stood nearby with his arms crossed. Both of them were paying attention to a man in a bloodied white button down shirt and a pair of cream colored slacks tied to a wooden chair.

Harry stood a moment and watched as Balalaika drew back and delivered a punishing blow across the man’s jaw. Blood and a pair of teeth flew from his mouth. The chair and the man in it tumbled to the floor. Harry wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d learned very quickly that his mother was _incredibly_ strong. She’d lifted men significantly larger than herself from the floor and held them aloft in one hand without effort.

Balalaika stepped back and Boris reached down easily lifting the man back upright. “Now, Diego. Are you in a mood to talk?”

The man coughed and looked at Harry. “You… _cough_ …sure you wanna do this in front of him?”

Balalaika and Boris turned to see Harry standing with the broken toy in his hands. She immediately smiled and moved over, kneeling in front of him. “Z _verenysh._ Mommy is working.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, sorrow in his eyes. He held the action figure up in quivering hands. “I broke it. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.” Tears began to flow once again.

She took the pieces and handed them to one of her soldiers. The man took it and tucked it away in a pocket.

“Shhh,” Balalaika said, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “It is alright, Harry. We will go out and get you a new one when we’re done.” She pulled him forward and pecked him on the forehead.

“Who is he?” Harry asked, pointing to the man in the chair.

“This is Diego,” Balalaika said, rising and taking Harry’s hand, moving him closer.

“Is he a bad man?” Harry asked innocently.

“No, your mom’s just a fuckin’ psycho bitch,” Diego said, spitting at the woman.

Harry snarled and rushed forward, kicking the man in the shin as hard as he could. “She is _not_!” He screamed.

“Fuck you, you little shit,” Diego said. His face was rocked to the side as Boris’ giant fist crashed against his jaw. He was again thrown to the floor, where Harry descended on him, punching and kicking him.

Balalaika was chuckling at the display. “Sergeant.”

Boris moved forward and pulled Harry away from him. “That is not the way.” He said to the boy. Harry looked up at him. “Here.” He said, pulling a pair of brass knuckles from his pockets. He pushed them down over Harry’s tiny fingers. “There you go.”

The soldiers in the room were all laughing uproariously as the child wailed upon the hardened drug lord. His attacks were indeed feeble, but he was relentless.

The man had said bad things about his mother. And Harry was having none of it. You fought for family in Roanapur. That was the first thing Balalaika had taught him. And it was a lesson he’d taken to heart.

After several minutes, he stepped away, exhausted. “Never say bad things about mama again.” He commanded the badly beaten man. “Or I’ll kill you.”

Diego spat blood and glared at the boy.

Boris turned and looked to Balalaika an eyebrow raised. The blonde gave him a nod. He knelt beside Harry. “In Roanapur, don’t threaten a man’s life unless you’re willing to take it.”

Harry stared intently at Boris. “I am.” He said. “He spit on mama.”

“Yes, he did. That’s very disrespectful. I would shoot him for it.” Boris offered. “Would you?”

Harry nodded at him. “He’s a bad man.”

Boris pulled a small Makarov 9mm pistol from his ankle holster. He cocked the slide back to load it and offered it to Harry.

“You’re seriously gonna let this fuckin’ _little kid_ shoot me?” Diego shouted. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”

Balalaika stepped over and stomped on his head, pinning it to the ground. “Quiet, _ublyudok_. My Sergeant is trying to educate my son.”

Boris showed Harry how to properly hold the weapon. “When you are ready, squeeze the trigger, here.”

Harry nodded and stepped over, putting the gun against the man’s face, right between his eyes. “Like this?”

“That is perfect, Harry,” Balalaika said to him. “He will be a wonderful message to the rest of the cartel members. All of them want to hurt us.”

Harry furrowed his brow, gripping the pistol tightly in his small hands. “I don’t want you hurting anyone.”

“Do it, you little-,” It was the last thing Diego said before Harry depressed the trigger. The gun bucked back in his hands, nearly knocking him down. But the bullet did what it was designed to do in all its brutal efficiency. The back of Diego’s skull sprayed against the wall.

For several seconds, Harry stood there, staring at the dead man. Slowly, Balalaika reached down and gently took the weapon from Harry’s hands. “You did wonderfully, Harry.” She said, handing the gun back to her Sergeant.

Harry looked up at her. He was glad that she was so proud of him. “Did I do good, mama?”

She hugged him close. “You did very good.” She moved him to arm’s length. “Go get cleaned up and we’ll see about getting you a new toy, alright?”

He smiled happily and nodded. He then ran from the room.

 

Balalaika sat behind her desk, her steepled fingers in front of her face. She flicked her eyes to the door as it opened. The girl she’d been expecting entered the room, closing the door gently behind her. Rarely did the girl leave her inner sanctum. Balalaika was one of only a handful that knew what the surprisingly beautiful girl even looked like. Sawyer the Cleaner was a mainstay of life in Roanapur just as she was. She was the very best there was at what she did. But it was very safe to say what she did wasn’t very nice.

Fredericka Sawyer owed everything she had to the blonde leader of Hotel Moscow. When she was a little girl, Balalaika had fabricated her records enough to allow her to attend Durmstrang Academy. Her magical prowess was nearly unequaled and her passion for the darker side of magic was without limit. She did incredibly well…until the school caught wind of the fact that she was indeed _not_ a pure blood witch.

Six and a half years of being one of the best students to roll through the academy and they instantly turned on her. The scars she bore across her throat and her wrists were the rewards for her deception. She was left bleeding to death in the gutter.

But as she had before, Balalaika found her, took her in, thus, saving her life. Since then, Sawyer had been just as devoted to the tall statuesque blonde as any of those in Hotel Moscow.

Balalaika had summoned her to her office. She’d dropped everything to accommodate the woman. “Thank you for coming to see me so promptly. I know you’re busy.”

Sawyer lifted her mechanical larynx to her throat. “Your message said it was urgent.” She offered as she sat down.

The blonde nodded. “It is regarding my son, Harry.” She couldn’t help but notice the immediate concern in the young woman’s features.

“Did something happen to him?” Despite the mechanical monotone of her voice, it contained a distinct note of apprehension.

Balalaika shook her head. She knew full well that Harry, even at only five years of age, had a crush on the woman. And Fredericka had shown a certain fondness for the boy. “No, Harry is fine. In fact, he’s wonderful. You know the bullet hole in Diego’s forehead?” Sawyer nodded. “That was Harry’s doing.”

Sawyer’s face belied a quick display of shock before a sinister smile worked across her face. “It would seem your little man is growing up.” 

“I thought you might approve.” She responded. “I’ll get right to the point, Fredericka. I know you’ve got a rather goodly amount of magical acumen.”

“I don’t use magic much these days.” She said, plainly. “Not much call for it in my line of work.”

“But you still stay in practice, yes?” Balalaika asked.

“When time permits.”

“As I thought. Harry is showing the signs. He became upset and sent his dinner across the room without touching it. I believe it is time he begins to learn what he is and what he can do.”

“You want me to tutor him.” Sawyer made it a statement.

“Precisely,” Balalaika said. “I can make it worth your while.”

“Your money is no good to me. You know that.” The girl offered with a soft expression. “I’m happy to do it.” She gave a sigh. “It will be hard to hold this, speak and instruct at the same time.”

“I’ve already taken that into account. You have an appointment to get a new ultra voice fitted. You’ll be hands-free. It is the least I can do.”

Sawyer grinned happily. “Thank you.” She said rising to her feet. “I’ll get started as soon as you would like.”

“Thank you, Fredericka,” Balalaika said. “Harry is going to be ecstatic.”

“Would you allow me to be the one to tell him?” Sawyer asked, a blush working its way up her pale face.

Balalaika leaned back in her chair. “You are quite fond of Harry, aren’t you?”

Sawyer swallowed and shook her head. “I would never do anything-,”

“I know that, Fredericka,” Balalaika said, waving a dismissive hand. “I actually ask for a different reason. I don’t see you molesting my son.” She did chuckle a touch. “Not that I believe Harry would have a problem with it.”

Sawyer stared at the woman with shock in her eyes. She knew that Harry harbored a crush on her, but she couldn’t believe Balalaika would even…

“Relax, Cleaner. You’ve always been loyal to me and mine. If I didn’t think I could trust you, I would have left you in the streets of Murmansk where I found you after the students of Durmstrang got finished with you.” Balalaika said, her voice calm.

“Thank you,” Sawyer said, softly. “For saving me.”

“You are most welcome. I know I can trust you. Perhaps when Harry is older…well, we’ll deal with that down the road.” She stared at Sawyer for a moment. The girl returned to the seat she occupied.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” She asked.

“How is your Japanese?”

“Nonexistent.” Sawyer returned. “Thanks to you I speak Russian, and because of Lagoon Company, I speak English, but I don’t know any Japanese.” She raised an eyebrow. “You want Harry to attend Mahoutokoro.”

Balalaika nodded. “He can attend day school there beginning at seven. When he turns eleven, he will be allowed to board at the school.” She smiled at Sawyer. “I would like _you_ to be his guardian in Japan while he is attending for the first three years. I will see about getting a floo adequately built in both the Hotel and in the cottage that the pair of you shall be staying in.”

Sawyer wasn’t quite sure how to take the news. She had several things to consider. Not the least of which that she would have to give up her business for three years while she lived with and tutored Harry. She also understood, at a base level, that Balalaika was thinly veiling the order as a request. When someone like Balalaika asked you to do something for her, you never said no. Sawyer might have been a valued member of the Hotel Moscow family, but she was by no means irreplaceable. “What about what I do in Roanapur? With all due respect, Miss Balalaika, I have a rather wide client base beyond just Hotel Moscow. They will wonder where I’ve gone.” 

Balalaika nodded. She’d anticipated this. Sawyer was, well, there was really no other way to put it. She was a psychopath. She enjoyed dismembering bodies for a living. It was a calling to the girl. She’d spent years perfecting her craft. And it showed in her quality of work. She wasn’t just the foremost body disposal expert in Roanapur. Thanks to Sawyer’s own insecurity, she was the _only_ one of her kind in Roanapur. Her absence would create a bit of a vacuum for the industry. “I’ll find someone that can take over for you in your stead. I’ll make sure everyone knows that your absence will be purely temporary and that any client loyalty would be… _greatly_ appreciated. You have my word.”

Sawyer knew immediately what that meant. She wouldn’t be losing any business. At least not if the blonde Russian had anything to say about it. And Sawyer was content to let it sit with her. With Balalaika, her word was as good as gold. “I really appreciate that. And I appreciate you trusting me with Harry’s education. That means a lot.”

“I trust you know where Harry’s playroom is,” Balalaika said. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make. Why don’t you go and give Harry the good news?” Sawyer gave her a genuine smile and a nod. “You should do that more often, _krasivaya devushka_. It makes me see what Harry sees in you.” The compliment made Sawyer blush. “Go. I am a busy woman.”

Sawyer bowed and left the room. She turned down the hall and did as the powerful blonde instructed. She approached the door to Harry’s recreation room and gripped the door handle and pushed it open. Harry sat upon the floor, a wide array of toys spread out before him. It was obvious how spoiled the boy was. But no one could deny that the adorable smile upon his face was more than worth it. She moved into the room, lifting her mechanical larynx to her throat. “Hello, Harry.” She said, cheerfully.

Harry’s bright green eyes swung over to her. A massive grin split his face. “Sawyer!” He chirped excitedly. He shot to his feet and rushed toward her. She knelt down and caught him as he veritably flung himself at her. He hugged her tightly. She was one of his favorite people. After a moment, they pulled apart. “What are you doing here?”

She again pressed her voice machine to her throat. And as he had every time, Harry frowned. One of the reasons Sawyer loved the boy so much was that Harry was genuinely angered by what had happened to her. “You’re too pretty to have scars like that.” He’d said to her. “When I grow up strong like mama, I’m going to find the people that did it and I’m going to let you cut some of them up, turn them into pot pie and then I’ll make the rest of the people eat them.”

It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. And for the past few months, it had stuck with her. Because with what Balalaika was teaching him and how she was raising him, she knew that it was just a matter of time before the young boy made good on his promise. But that was project for another time. “Your mother tells me you’ve started showing signs of magic use.”

Harry gave her a nod. “I can’t do that much. I can only float really small things.”

Sawyer nodded. “That is how it starts. It was much the same for me.”

His eyes grew wide. “You can use magic?”

She smiled and rose to her feet. She reached into her belt and pulled out a long sturdy wand. She gave it a swish and flick. Harry immediately rose into the air. “Whoa!” He began giggling. Sawyer moved her wand about, causing Harry to soar through the air. “I’m flying!” He said, happily. After a few minutes, she let him down.

“Your mother wants me to begin teaching you. Would you like that?”

Harry again threw himself at her. “Yes, please.” He looked up into her eyes. “Any time I get to spend with you, the better.”

She gave a raspy chuckle. “I know I’m sick and twisted, but you are _way_ too young for me, Harry.”

Harry gave a bob of the eyebrows. “I’ll get older.”

Sawyer softly caressed his cheek with her thumb. “I know you will.” She leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. “It’s just going to be a really long wait.”

For some reason, Harry was elated at hearing that.

 


	4. Siligaan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all creatures of the forest are benevolent. And not all children of the woods are looked upon with favor by the forest that born them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short story that was originally written as an entry for a writing contest on the website Gaia online. The parameters were to write about a non-standard princess that had to do something to save her non-standard lover. And, at some point, had to contain both a unicorn and the princess had to be able to talk to trees.
> 
> This is the insane rambling that resulted from that shitstorm. So read, review, and most importantly, enjoy.

 

She shifted restlessly. Sleep, again, never came. 

Frustrated she threw the covers from her and rose from her bed. She pushed her thick ebony tangle of hair from her eyes and she donned her robe and went from her room. The candelabra produced enough light to navigate the dark prison walls, for that is exactly what her palace had become to her. The feel of the satin robe against her silky skin often brought a smile to her face, but tonight it felt like ice. 

"Riselle . . ." A soft whisper touched her ears.

She spun, startled.

Nothing. The corridor was empty. For the past year of her life, she had heard such whispers. She feared she was going mad. 

Confident that she was alone, she completed her trek and pushed the heavy ironbound door ajar. 

A heavyset middle-aged nurse snapped her eyes to the door. "Tis only you, child." She stood and took an extra blanket from the bed and rested it on the girl's shoulders. "Knock, y'should, child. Near scared me out of my skin."

Riselle moved to the bed and sat upon the edge, resting her hand upon the gaunt man's forehead that slept there. She pulled her hand away and wiped the moisture on her robe. "How is he, Bel?"

The woman's expression turned to one of sadness. "The medicine man came again. He was unsure how to help. The sickness is eating him up inside. He has seen nothing like it." She sat back in the chair next to the bed. "The only thing he seemed to know for sure was that Ty had little time left." 

"Riselle . . ." The whisper came again. "We know how to help you." 

"What?" She leapt from the bed. "How?" She shouted to the room. "How can you help him?"

Bel rose from her chair, suddenly startled. "What is it, child?" She struggled to maintain her composure. 

Riselle put a palm out, quieting the elder woman. "Who are you?" She asked. "Show yourselves."

"We have." The voice said. "All your life we have shown ourselves to you. You never knew we were there. You could not hear until recently."

"Where are you?" 

"All around you." 

"The walls?" She looked about the room.

"Beyond."

"Beyond the walls. Outside the keep?" 

"Yes. Step past the walls of your home and you will see. Follow the trail of stone till stone abandons. That is where you will find us."

She ran to the door. Bel's hand caught her wrist. "What madness are you about, child?" 

"I have heard voices, Bel. I have been hearing them for almost a year. Since father died. They say they can help Ty. If there is a chance then I have to take it." 

Bel released her and drew back, her hand drawn to her mouth in surprise. "Your father heard voices just before he died. He believed he was going mad."

"I may very well be, Bel." She tore the door open and ran.

"Let us hope not, girl." She wiped the forehead of the young boy. His sweating had gotten worse. "For his sake."

Riselle donned only what she needed to travel. Boots, sturdy breeches, and a soft leather jerkin. She strapped her father's sword to her hip. She trained very little with it, but it was better than nothing. 

She saddled the massive riding lizard and rushed down the stone path that ran toward the city of Lockhelm.

The paving stones soon gave way to hard-packed dirt. She dropped from the lizard's back and looked around her. Dawn crept slowly through the trees. Dew dripped from the leaves and the slight breeze brought a chill from the peaks of the north. 

"Where are you?" She shouted.

“All around you, child." The voice said.

"I see nothing but trees and shrubs! No tricks!" She pulled the sword awkwardly from the scabbard.

"Then you see us, girl." The voice returned, somewhat amused.

"Trees?" She asked, doubtful.

"As could your mother and father commune with us, so too can you." The voice said.

"Which are you?" She looked at each tree in turn.

"I am the pine to your right. A family of fox nest in my roots. The last of a nest of forest jays took wing not an hour ago."

She turned to the giant tree. "Why can I speak with you?"

"Your father and your mother were of the forest. They were both born within our boughs." A pause. "As were you."

"You say you can help Ty."

"He wastes away. A sickness within him eats at him."

"Yes." 

"We know the truth. For what he is becoming, he must ingest the blood of the unicorn." The voice took on a somber tone. “You know of whom we speak.”

"Siligaan?” She asked, uttering the sacred animal’s name. The beast was a known quantity in the woods. Tales of him varied wildly. Some said he had no care or interest in anyone or anything but himself, while others had experienced nothing but kindness from the wayward unicorn. “Why? Is there no other way?" She cried. "There must be some herb, some rare plant-,"

"There is not!" The tree roared. "He is in the grips of a force beyond your ken, girl. If he does not receive the blood within a ten-day then his life as you know it will never have been. His transformation will be complete."

"Transformation? Into what?"

"It is better for you girl if you never know."

"Where do I find Siligaan?" She looked at her sword.

"Near the creek. He sleeps. You must be careful." The tree went silent.

Riselle turned and climbed upon her lizard. "I will ask. He is smart and honorable. He might help."

She quietly made her way to the creek, just a few miles from the forest road. As stated, the giant equine figure stood with his face close to the water, lapping lazily.

She stepped from the reptile and walked toward the magical beast.

"That's close enough, girl." The unicorn said in a regal tone.

"You speak?" She asked in surprise.

He turned toward her. "Why in bloody hell wouldn't I?" Shocked at the response she stood with her mouth open. "Are you here for a purpose, or do you plan to stand there and drool like an idiot?"

She snapped from her surprise and met his eyes. "My love is dying."

"How is that any of my concern?" Siligaan asked, arching a single eyebrow.

"I need some of your blood to cure the disease that has him in its grip. You are his only chance for survival."

"Oh, well then let me just puncture my jugular so you can save your betrothed." He said with sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Not bloody likely."

"Don't you care about anyone but yourself?" She was appalled at his rudeness. "I find it hard to believe you are a unicorn."

"I understand. The four-foot alicorn on my head isn't sufficient evidence for you." He walked toward her. "How would you feel if people kept coming to your home and telling you they need your blood? Or your horn? Or your hair? Or-,"

"Alright, I understand. But my need is great! What purer reason it there than true love?"

"Oh, I've never heard that before." He put his long snout inches from her face. "Listen you little tart. I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention." She could feel tears sliding from her sapphire eyes. "Not. Going. To. Happen." He enunciated each word for emphasis. He then turned from her and moved back to the creek. "Now get the hell out of my forest."

She stood silently sobbing. The tears rained from her eyes. Anger boiled within her. Her rage brought a feral growl. She pulled the sword from her hip. Enraged she ran toward the unicorn.

Siligaan let out a sigh as he rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

She raised the sword above her head prepared to loose a killing blow. At the last moment, he turned, lowered his head and grimaced as she impaled herself upon the spiral that graced his forehead.

He cast her limp body into the forest. 

“It is at last done, then?" A voice echoed from the forests.

Siligaan could feel the anger in the trees. "You never told me why."

"Her father and mother were of the forest, but they were never a part of it. They took from us and never gave back. They dared to destroy the ancient grove of oaks to the east. Her mother was an elf. She, above all, should have known better! We swore to get revenge. Now we have. Soon the palace will be awash with the blood of those that served the Riedmueller family."

Siligaan turned away from the forest and walked back to the creek. "We made a deal. I kept my end."

"You have." Flames erupted from the branches of the trees and engulfed the unicorn. Moments passed as the figure burned. Slowly the flames died revealing a man of hefty build and long black hair. "Now we keep ours. You are free, Siligaan. Go back to your kingdom and leave the forests forever."

He stood and stretched, rubbing the back of his neck and his spine. “By the Gods, that was uncomfortable.” His body popped and cracked. “Fifty years as a horse will give you _such_ a backache.” He rubbed his forehead as he to the giant lizard. “Got kind of used to it.” He said, softly. He climbed into the saddle. He cast one last glance to the castle on the hill. He didn’t envy anyone within its walls at what was to inevitably follow. With a shudder, he pulled the reins of the beast about and spurred the beast away.

The reptile reared and ran through the forests.

Nine nights later, the trees listened intently as the intense screams of pain and horror wafted down from the palace on the hill. 

"It is done." The pine said, a sadistic glee in its regal voice.

 


	5. She's A Beauty; Chapter 1

Faith finished her set and racked the bar. She sat up from the bench press and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Fuckin’ hot as hell.” She said to herself. She reached into the pocket of her dark blue prison-issue uniform and pulled out the pack of cigarettes and flipped one out. She lit it with the small plastic Bic lighter and took a drag.

“430019!” Boomed out over the yard’s loudspeaker.

Faith looked up and rose to her feet. She moved over to the black-skinned guard. His bald head glistened in the warm California sun. “What’s up, Eddie?”

“You got a visitor.” He said, motioning her inside.

“Who?” Faith asked on reflex.

“How the hell should I know?” He asked her. “Go on.”

Faith entered the building, letting out a sigh of relief as she felt the air conditioner on her skin. She followed the pair of guards that were waiting. They escorted her through the plethora of locked gates and into the visitor area. Faith approached the seats and stopped cold when she saw who was sitting on the other side of the glass. For a long moment, she simply stood there, staring at the one person she never, _ever_ thought would come and see her. She slowly approached and sat down. With a trembling hand, she lifted the receiver on her side and held it up to her ear. “You look like hell, B.”

Buffy sat staring at her sister slayer. “It’s been a rough few weeks.” The blonde’s tone was carefully neutral.

“Didn’t mess up your hair, though.” Faith said, trying to liven the mood. She could tell that something weighed very, very heavily on the petite slayer. “How’ve you been?”

“Been better,” Buffy said to her. “You look good.”

“Eat, sleep, think and work out.” Faith offered. “Not much else to do.” She sighed. “I know you said you’d beat me to death if I ever tried this, but I figure with all the walls, bars and guards, I’m fairly safe from it in here. I _am_ sorry, Buffy. What I did…it was bullshit. All the crap I put you and the rest of the gang through, it was on me. When you came after me to save Angel, you had every right. And coming to L.A. to find me, you had every right to do that, too.” Buffy stared at her. Faith could see the moisture threatening the blonde’s eyes. “I went after him in L.A. hoping he’d kill me. He ever tell you that?”

“Angel and I don’t talk much,” Buffy said. “He couldn’t do it?”

“ _Wouldn’t_.” Faith rubbed her face with her free hand. “I broke down like a soap opera sissy in his arms. He…he thought there might something worth saving in here.” She tapped her chest.

“Is there?” Buffy asked her.

“Even after all the shit I did to you, you still saved my life, B.” Faith said. “You already know the answer to that. If you didn’t, you’d have let the bastards take me out.”

Buffy conceded that. “I need you.” She said, exhaustion causing her voice to falter.

Faith wasn’t sure why, but that statement both elated her and angered her in the same measure. She decided to go with anger since elation wasn’t very helpful. “Hate to wet the paper for you, B but I’m kinda unavailable right now. Might wanna check back in a few decades when my parole comes up.”

“Faith…” Buffy leaned forward, resting her head in her hand. She lifted her eyes to those of the dark-haired slayer. “You need to know…”

“It’s Armageddon again. I dig.” Faith said, shaking her head. “Last thing you need’s me in the mix.” She leaned back. “Besides, you’ll come shining through in the end like you always do.” It took every ounce of strength she had to keep the bitterness from her tone.

“My mother died,” Buffy said, tears falling down her cheeks. “Died of a brain aneurysm two months ago. Dawn is all I have, now.”

“Jesus, B.” Faith said to her. “Joyce was one of the good ones. How’s little D takin’ it?”

“She’s gone, Faith,” Buffy said, breaking down, crying. “She was taken. I let it happen. I couldn’t protect her.”

“Whoa, slow down, B.” Faith said, resting her hand on the glass. She quickly pulled it away when the guard looked at her. “Calm down and tell me what happened.”

“There’s a deranged hell goddess that wants to use Dawn to get back to her dimension.” Buffy sniffed and wiped her eyes. “She’s going to kill Dawn, Faith.”

Faith stared at the blonde for a heartbeat. “Step away from the glass.” She said, before hanging up the receiver. Buffy quickly did as she was instructed.

Faith got to her feet and backed up. She took a pair of running steps and dove headlong through the glass partition. The bullet resistant material yielded to her superior physical strength. She somersaulted and came to her feet.

The two guards in the visitor room immediately went at her.

Buffy quickly intercepted the first, landing a hard kick to his gut, doubling him over. Then drove her knee into his face, knocking him clean out.

Faith caught the second with a rapid right cross to the jaw, a blow to his stomach and an uppercut that lifted him from his feet and threw him onto his back. “Come on.” She said, taking Buffy by the sleeve. She then ran and jumped through the window and out into the daylight.

The pair fell three stories and crashed down on top of an old Camaro. The roof caved in and the alarm began blaring. The pair quickly rolled to the ground.

Faith looked to Buffy. “You okay?”

The slayer nodded to her, smiling. “Five by five.” She said, pulling her keys out. They quickly legged it to the black Jeep Cherokee.

As they drew closer, Faith reached over and snatched the keys from Buffy. “I’ll drive.” Buffy didn’t voice any protest. She jumped and slid across the hood as Faith climbed behind the wheel. She shoved it into gear and raced from the parking lot. As she drove, she pulled the blue prison-issue top off and flung it out the window. “We’ve got about ten minutes before there’s a roadblock on the highway.” Faith said as she looked at the mirrors.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Buffy said, softly. “You’re not in the system anymore.”

Faith furrowed her brow as she looked at the blonde. “What are you talking about?”

“Willow hacked the Federal database and took you out of the system. Faith Lehane doesn’t exist anymore. Your name is Faith Wilkins and you don’t have a record. She even changed your fingerprints. She was pretty thorough. If you get stopped, they’ll run your information and you’ll be free to go.”

 “They still got my description, B.”

“No, they don’t. Willow made sure of that. When the news reports begin flashing your picture, it won’t be you. It’ll be someone they’re never going to find.”

“Who?” Faith asked.

“Some girl I went to high school with. You don’t know her. She was turned over three years ago.”

“Huh. Way to go, Red. So I take it the gang knows you planned on springing me?” Faith asked her.

“They know,” Buffy said to her.

“They weren’t exactly on board with it, were they?”

“Actually, it was Willow’s idea. I didn’t think about it.” Buffy sank back in the chair. “I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.”

Faith flicked her eyes to the girl. “Hey, buck up, B. We’re gonna get her back. I promise.”

“You can’t make that kind of promise, Faith,” Buffy said to her. “You don’t know what we’re up against.”

“Enlighten me. It’s a five-hour drive to Sunnydale.”

Buffy regaled Faith with everything that had happened over the course of the past few months. She told her everything she knew about Glory and what they’d learned about Dawn.

Faith was quiet for a long time. Finally, she spoke. “So little D isn’t even real?”

“She is. She’s my little sister.” Buffy said to her. “I don’t care if she’s the key or not.”

“I don’t think I was ever mean to her.” Faith said.

“No. Dawn was the one person, even after you went off the deep end, you didn’t terrorize. She looked up to you. Blamed us for you going bad.”

“Kid’s misguided as shit, then. That wasn’t on you guys. That was on me. Me and my fuckin’ trust issues.”

“It wasn’t all you.” Buffy offered. “We played a part. If we’d have tried harder, who knows? Things might have been different.” She sighed and stared out the window. “Doesn’t matter right now, anyway. We should pull over somewhere so you can change.” Buffy said, reaching back and pulling forward a bag. “I packed you some clothes.”

“Gonna be nice to get out of these prison issues.” Faith said as they pulled off the road behind an old abandoned filling station. “You go ahead and drive, B. We should keep moving, just in case.”

Buffy nodded and slid over as Faith climbed into the backseat. She continued on as Faith peeled out of her clothes. She flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror. She’d always thought Faith was pretty. In a less tumultuous time in her life, she’d thought about the slayer in more than just a platonic sense. When the pair slayed together, danced together things were so much less complicated. She yearned for those days. When things made sense, or rather didn’t make sense, and she was just too into the moment to care. “Eyes front, B.” Faith said, humor in her voice.

“Sorry.” The blonde said, sheepishly.

“Hey, don’t be.” Faith returned. “I’m flattered as hell.” She finished up and climbed back up into the passenger seat. “Just didn’t figure you for the type is all.”

Buffy didn’t say anything to that. She reached behind the seat and took out a paper bag. “Here. Figured you might be hungry.”

Faith took it and looked inside. She saw several sandwiches in plastic wrap. “Nice.” She said, taking one out. “PB and J. Awesome.” She devoured it quickly. “Prison food sucked.”

“I figured it wasn’t good for the slayer metabolism.” Buffy returned.

The sun was beginning to set when they reached Sunnydale. “What the hell is that?” Faith asked, pointing to the massive structure.

“Dammit!” Buffy said, angrily. “We’re out of time.” She looked about and saw Glory’s minions moving about at the base of the pillar.

“They’re gonna need to bring little D here, right?” Faith asked.

“I think so,” Buffy said in return.

“You go and get the rest of the group. Bring ‘em here.”

“What are you gonna do?” Buffy asked.

“I’m gonna buy you some time.” Faith said to her. She pushed open the door of the Jeep and leapt out, shoulder rolling to her feet.

Buffy watched her in the rearview mirror. “Good luck, Faith.”

Faith ran and ducked down behind a pile of debris. “Gonna need to take out a few of her flunkies first.” She looked around and smiled. She lifted the long rod of rebar and nodded. “That’ll get it done.” She made her way around, striking quickly and efficiently.

She found her way to the door of a large utility shed. She knelt and pressed her ear against it. She could hear voices inside. “Hmm, funny thing. You've been here for a few hours now, and I haven't seen big sis galloping in to save you. She probably knows what a terrible mistake that'd be.”

Faith frowned at that. The thought of Dawn in the woman’s clutches for that long really pissed her off. Dawn’s response, however, made her smile. “She's not afraid of you.”

“Oh no, sweetie baby. I'm talking about the ritual. 'Cause you know, I bleed you, the portals open, but once you die, they close.”

Faith thought about that as she listened.

“The faster you die the better for your sorry species.” Glory quipped. “I'm bettin' Buffy knows that. Since she's not really your sister, I'm guessin' she isn't gonna show. And if she does…it might not be to save you.” The sound of a body smacking concrete and a yelp of pain pushed Faith to action.

She remembered what Buffy said about Glory’s strength. Faith knew she was stronger than Buffy, especially now that she’d been spending the past year doing nothing but getting stronger, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to take on the likes of a hell goddess. If she just went in, guns blazing, she could get killed and worse yet, get Dawn hurt or killed in the process.

No, her best bet, sadly, was to wait. She needed to get Glory out in the open, with no one to help her. Buffy would be returning with the group soon. If Faith could continue taking out her minions, that might be enough.

She knew what she needed. She took off a dead sprint. From what she remembered, there was a sporting goods shop a block over. She hoped it was still there.

After a quick smash and grab, Faith made her way back to the construction site, compound bow and plethora of arrows in hand. “Time to get back on the clock.” She said as she knocked her first arrow. She picked her way through, putting arrows into everyone she saw that wasn’t Dawn. She understood, deep down that _this_ was why Buffy and company sprang her from jail.

Buffy had never truly had the killer instinct that, in Faith’s purview, was part of being a slayer. Even when the pair went head up in Faith’s apartment, she wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Faith could tell, even then, that Buffy wasn’t a killer. She talked a big game, but she just…didn’t have it in her. That’s why Buffy truly needed her now. The blonde wouldn’t be able to just slaughter people, even if it meant getting Dawn back.

But just because she couldn’t do it, didn’t mean she couldn’t call upon the services of one that could. Faith had no problems burning down anyone she had to for the greater good. These people were monsters and demons just like any other. As far as she was concerned, they gave up their humanity the moment they threw in their lot with Glory. And since she didn’t see them as human, well…

Arrow after arrow took life after life. Faith was deadly accurate with her shots.

Faith pulled another arrow and stopped. “What the fuck?” She snapped. She remembered the girl from her one meeting with her. It had been over a year since she’d seen her. _Tara_ , Faith thought to herself. She watched from her perch on the roof of a shed as the girl staggered in through a hole in the fenceline. “Shit.” She said, sadly. “Red’s gonna be pissed.” Her heart stopped when Glory stepped up to her, gripping her by the arm. “Dammit.” Faith said she was about to jump down and rescue the girl when Willow emerged from the shadows and gripped Glory’s hair. She then pressed her hands to Tara’s skull. A bright flash of light erupted from the three before all of them were thrown apart.

Willow and Tara were quickly up and away. Faith sighed in relief. Glory was helped to her feet by a pair of her goons. The woman looked disoriented and confused. Faith quickly drew back and fired twice. Her arrows took both of her footmen through the throats. They died gurgling. Glory snarled, looking to the bodies, then scanned the area. She stopped when her eyes fell upon Buffy.

“Go get her, B.” Faith said, smiling. “Better help you out a little.” She said, again firing her arrows.

One after another, arrows sank deep into Glory’s eyes. She screamed and gripped the shafts, staggering back. Buffy didn’t waste a single moment. She was on the woman instantly.

Faith nodded and turned, dropping from the roof to the concrete below.

Giles, Spike and some brunette that Faith didn’t recognize – _Anya_ , she thought to herself – ran in and began wailing on the remaining minions. Faith craned her head upward and saw Dawn standing high atop the spire. “I’m comin’ kiddo.” She said, running for the tower. She fired as she ran, taking down anyone that got in her way. She reached back for another arrow and found nothing. “Dammit.”

“Looks like you’re empty.” A man said as he wielded a crowbar.

Faith quickly flipped the bow around, looping the string over the back of his head. She then pulled the bow itself before releasing it to spring back and slam into the man’s face. He fell to the ground. She kicked him in the head, knocking him cold. “Looks like you’re stupid.” She said, before leaning down to grab the crowbar from his hand. She ran on, before being cut off by Buffy running up to her, carrying a huge hammer. “Weren’t you just wearing a black jacket and slacks?” Faith asked her.

“Not now,” Buffy said to the girl. “We need to get to Dawn.”

Faith followed her as they made their way ever upward. They turned to see Glory running full speed toward them. Her eyes were bleeding but looked none the worse for wear. “Goddamn, she’s fast.”

“I’ll stop her. You get to Dawn.” Buffy said.

Faith reached out and snatched the hammer from her hands. “No. She’s your sister, B. You need to be the one to save her.” She tossed the crowbar and took the hammer in both hands. “I got this.”

“Faith I…”

“ _I got this_.” Faith said, pushing Buffy away. “Go be the hero, B. That’s what you’re good at.” She gave the girl a smile. “I was never that good at the hero bit, anyway.” She turned back toward the angered hell goddess.

Buffy hesitated a moment, then turned and continued upward.

Glory quickly began scaling the side of the tower. She pulled herself up over a railing and came face to face with the second of the chosen two. “Hi.” Faith said before slamming the woman across the face with the hammer. Glory’s head rocked to the side, but she maintained her hold. She came back up, driving her fist into Faith’s gut, staggering the slayer back.

Faith felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. She looked Glory in the eye as the woman came over the railing. “Not bad. Almost felt that.”

“What?” Glory asked. “Seriously?” She was stunned when the hammer again cranked her across the jaw. Another blow caught her in the side of the knee. Her leg buckled, but luckily, didn’t break. She could immediately tell that whoever this girl was, she was stronger than any of the rest of them.

Faith whipped the hammer around and blasted the woman in the ribs, sending her flying across the metal platform. Glory managed to catch a chain and stop herself from being thrown from the tower altogether. “Who the hell are you?” Glory asked, squaring off with the hammer-wielding brunette.

“Name’s Faith. The Vampire Slayer.” She rushed forward, driving the blunt implement into Glory’s gut. The goddess answered back with a punch to Faith’s cheek. Thunder and lightning boomed and flashed behind her eyes. She loosed an upswing of the hammer that caught Glory in the chin. The woman was lifted from her feet and thrown against part of the tower. The metal bent as she impacted. “You hit like a girl.” Faith said to her. She again dropped the hammer across Glory’s knee. This time, she was rewarded with a hard crack of bone.

Glory cried out in pain. Faith didn’t relent. She hit Glory again and again. Blood spattered across the metal framing around her. Wet crunching sounds erupted with every strike. “Just fucking die already.” Faith growled.

“You can’t kill me. I’m a _god_ , you stupid…” She didn’t finish the statement as Faith spun about and swung the hammer with every ounce of her strength. The impact was terrible. Glory was hurled bodily from the tower and out into the night. Faith looked over the edge as the woman hit the ground hard enough to crater the stone.

“Goddess or not, you just got dropped like a bitch.” Faith added. Even though Buffy had filled her in on the fact that Glory was sharing a body with a man named Ben, the transformation was still a little jarring. Going from a rather good-looking redhead to a bland looking man in his twenties was strange as hell. She contemplated dropping down and finishing the man off, but smiled when she saw Giles walking toward him, the calm _Ripper_ mask firmly in place. Ben would be handled presently, she knew. So she concentrated on getting to the top of the spire.

As she ran, she heard the screaming of one of Glory’s minions hurtling past. As he fell and drew close, she felt the cold tingle in the back of her neck that told her he wasn’t human. She chuckled as he hit the ground in a splatter. “Base jumping without a parachute. There’s a reason you don’t try it at home.”

Suddenly, out in the air, a swirling mass of light and energy came into being. “Shit.” Faith said, doubling her pace. Lightning arced from the cloud, blasting holes in the road, tearing the front of buildings off, leaving grotesque beasts behind. She made it to the platform to see Dawn and Buffy standing in each other’s arms.

“Faith?” Dawn asked, curiously.

“Yeah, kid. I’m pullin’ for the good guys now.” Faith said as she moved closer. “What’s the deal? How do we stop that?” She pointed to the portal.

“I have to jump,” Dawn said, sadly. “The energy…” She stared at Buffy.

“It'll kill you.” Buffy offered.

Faith moved to the edge of the platform. “Damn.” She said as she watched the chaos.

“I know. Buffy, I know about the ritual. I have to stop it.” Dawn said.

“No,” Buffy said, shaking her head.

“Gotta side with big sis on this one, D.” Faith said. “That shit’ll tear you apart.”

Dawn looked from one slayer to the other and back. “I have to. Look at what's happening. Buffy, you have to let me go. Blood starts it, and until the blood stops flowing, it'll never stop.”

Faith remembered what Buffy said about Dawn. Dawn was created from Buffy. The monks made sure of that. But the slayer was a part of that. Maybe…

“Death is my gift,” Buffy said softly.

“What is she talking about?” Faith asked, settling the hammer on her shoulder.

“No,” Dawn said, shaking her head. “You can’t. You can’t leave me.”

Faith turned to the portal. “Gotta try.” She said, sadly. “Hey, B?” She regarded the blonde. “Before anyone does anything hasty, do you forgive me? For what I did to you, what I did to everyone? It kinda matters to me, right now. Not sure why.”

“Of course I do, Faith. You took on a hell goddess for my little sister.” Buffy said to her.

“Thanks.” Faith said, grinning. “Means a lot.” With that, she turned and dove off the platform.

“FAITH!” Buffy screamed. She and Dawn both ran to the edge and watched as Faith fell through the heart of the maelstrom. What looked like lightning struck and tore at the dark haired slayer.

Then, in a flash…Faith was gone. The breach had been sealed.

They had won.

Buffy stared down at the space the portal had occupied. Faith’s words from just moments ago rang in her ears. _“Go be the hero, B. That’s what you’re good at. I was never that good at the hero bit, anyway.”_

“You’re wrong, Faith,” Buffy said, tears in her eyes. “You _are_ a hero.”

Everyone on the ground looked up toward the sky. “How did that happen?” Xander asked, looking at Giles. “Dawn is still alive.”

“Faith,” Giles said, cleaning his glasses before putting them back on. “As Buffy said, the monks created Dawn from her. Which means the part of Buffy that was a slayer also infuses Dawn. Not to the same degree, obviously, but still…”

“And since Faith was a slayer, it somehow tricked the portal into closing,” Tara said.

“Faith sacrificed herself to save us,” Willow said. “I never thought I’d say that.”

“I just hope she’s happy in the afterlife,” Giles said. “Lord knows she bloody well deserves it.”


	6. She's A Beauty; Chapter 2

Pain wracked her slender frame as she fell. Faith felt like her body was going to tear itself apart. She’d never, in her entire life, experienced anything like it.

But despite all of that, the smile never left her face. At least she was going to die having done this _one_ thing right. She saved Buffy and Dawn’s life. She’d saved the entire world. Faith was a hero. The thought made her smile.

Suddenly, the pain stopped. Faith felt herself freefalling. She opened her eyes and saw the lush green grass racing up to meet her. She had barely a second or two to contemplate her new situation when she slammed into the ground. She let out a grunt as he crashed down. “Ow.” She said, after a moment. “That sucked on _so_ many levels.” The massive hammer she was carrying thudded into the dirt beside her. She got to her hands and knees and shook her head to clear the cobwebs. She leaned back on her knees and waited for her vision to clear.

She looked around at her surroundings. Beautiful emerald green grass and exotic wildflowers greeted her at every turn. “For a hell dimension, this place is pretty damn nice. If this was where she was from, then no wonder Glory wanted to get back.” She cocked her eyebrow when she chalked to the east.

A massive pillar rose high into the sky. Atop the spire, in what looked like a starburst of crystal, was some sort of half-collapsed globe. "Okay. That's different." Faith rose to her feet and stretched. Her body popped and cracked. She was a little stiff and sore but was otherwise in good spirits. "Well, if I have to spend the rest of my life somewhere, I could definitely do worse." She reached down and lifted the hammer, resting it on her shoulder. 

She picked a direction and set off, resigning herself to her fate. She wasn’t sure how long she walked. The sun was warm, but not hot. The wind was blowing gently, cooling her skin with its soft caress. She was enjoying herself…

Until a deep rumbling roar shook the area. Faith whirled to see…she wasn't sure what in the hell it was. It was massive, with tremendous horns sprouting from its head, shoulders, and back. Faith found it oddly amusing. In a place that she always pictured heaven to look like, she had found a beast that seemed straight from the bowels of hell. "Figures." She said to herself. 

She gripped the mighty hammer tightly and prepared for the creature. She knew she couldn’t outrun it, thus she had only one option. She wasn’t afraid. In fact, quite the opposite. She was a slayer. She was born to fight. Vampires, demons or enormous lumbering hell-beasts; it didn’t matter to her. If she was going to die, she’d die fighting.

A crazy calm descended over her. She smirked and readied herself. “Come and get some.” She said as the creature neared her. It let out a final bellowing roar as it charged. Faith exploded into motion. She rushed forward and drew back the hammer. She was the quicker by far and struck first.

What happened then was something that she hadn’t expected. Being a slayer meant being far, _far_ stronger than a normal human. A well-placed punch could see her fist through a cinderblock wall without a scratch. She could easily rip a door free of a large truck. With enough exertion, she could flip a car.

She had expected her strike to faze the beast, but that was about it. Given the size and obvious mass of the monster, she didn’t think she would do much beyond that. But as her swing began, she noticed that the giant weapon seemed… _lighter_. The strike was coming far faster than it had before.

She didn't have a lot of time to contemplate it before her hammer came around and cracked into his skull. The resulting impact lifted the Goliath from his feet and spun him bodily in the air. His head was nothing but a crimson vapor as his body was pitched across the plains to lay lifeless. 

Faith stood, staring in amazement. She looked down at her weapon and back to the beast. “No way.” She said, stunned.

“My sentiments exactly.” An accented voice sounded from behind her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the woman that spoke was Australian. She turned and watched as a pair of women approached her.

Faith immediately smiled. Both were absolutely _stunning_. The first of the pair was tall, taller even than her with wild black hair sporting a few red highlights. She was draped in a blue sari with intricate runes along the edge inside a white border. She had a large tattoo on her left shoulder. Her arms were bare, as were her legs and they rippled with muscle as she walked. She carried with her a long red spear with wickedly serrated blades on both ends. She moved with a very dangerous and deadly grace. Faith’s mouth began to water. She looked to the second of the two. It was the first time in her life Faith had ever seen a woman with such perfectly pink hair. She’d seen dye jobs, both good and bad, but she’d never seen it occur naturally. The woman’s eyebrows, both of which were narrowed, matched her head. She was dressed much the same as the dark haired woman, but her sari was a deep maroon with the same white borders, but slightly different rune work. Where the brunette’s face was a mask of amusement, curiosity and caution, the pink haired woman was all business. Faith immediately got the impression that she wasn’t the trusting kind. _Welcome to the party_ , Faith thought to herself. “Um…hi.” She said, slowly lowering her hammer to the ground. “I’m not here for a fight.”

The pair gave her a wide berth as they both moved to the large beast. The brunette nudged it with her foot. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Seems you were all too eager for one a few seconds ago.”

“This is a King Behemoth.” The pink haired woman offered. Her voice carried both a sultry and a stern quality. She turned to regard Faith. “And you took him out in one hit.” She patted the brunette’s shoulder. “Even she can’t do that and she’s the strongest person in the village.”

“I’m um…” Faith began, rubbing the back of her head. “I’m not from around here?”

“Yeah.” The brunette offered. “Caught that. Saw you come flyin’ through that…” She pointed to the sky above where Faith fell. “Whatever it was. Thought we’d come check it out.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly sure where I am. Is this Australia or something?” Faith asked.

 "What the hell is Australia?" The dark-haired spear wielder asked. 

“That would be a no. My name is Faith. Do I call you Tats and Pinky or do you two have names?”

The dark-haired woman laughed as the pinkette glowered. "Pinky. I like that." Tats turned to her companion. "I think I like that better than Sunshine." 

“I will hurt you.” She turned to Faith. “I’m Lightning. This is Fang.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Your name is Lightning?” As the woman gave a slow nod, Faith raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, to each his own. Know a couple of guys back home go by Spike and Angel.”

Fang stepped up and offered her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Faith.”

Faith noticed that Fang was the friendlier of the two. “Looks like your girlfriend is the strong silent type.” 

“Wife.” Lightning said, sternly.

“Wife? Rock on.” Faith said. “Lucky bitches, both of you. So where the hell am I?”

"You're on the planet of Gran Pulse," Fang said. "This area is called the Archylte Steppe." 

“So…this isn’t some hell dimension?” Faith asked, looking about.

"Depends on who you ask, I suppose," Fang said. "Sunshine and her people…" She pointed to the pillar and the globe that sat atop it. "The people from Cocoon thought it was. While I think it isn't exactly a paradise, it ain't exactly hell, either." 

“Heaven or hell, it really don’t matter to me. Either way, I could get used to this place.” Faith said.

“Why are you here?” Lightning asked out of the blue. “And how were able to down him so quickly?” She indicated the behemoth’s corpse.

As Faith began explaining how she got to Gran Pulse, Fang moved over and began throwing ropes around the monster. “Gotta get him back to the village and cleaned.”

Faith stopped her narration and raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna eat him? That’s just nasty.”

“These suckers may look vicious and disgusting, but the meat is actually quite tasty. Skin makes good leather, horns and bones are good for medicines and tools. Gotta thank you for killing him so fast. When behemoth kings like this guy go for too long in a fight, their meat gets tough. He’s gonna be nice and tender. He didn’t have a chance to change.”

Faith wanted to ask what the woman was talking about but thought better of it. She turned back to Lightning. "So I dove into the portal to close it and ended up here." 

“Sounds like this…Glory was a Fal’Cie.” Lightning said. She could tell that Faith was telling the truth.

“Is Fal’Cie another word for god?” Faith asked.

Lightning shrugged and gave a nod. “Good a description as any.”

“Then I guess she might have been. She did come to our world from somewhere. If it was this place, then I can see why she’d wanna get back so badly.”

“I don’t know about any Glory, but Pulsian legends tell of a Fal’Cie that went mad several thousand years ago. Her name was Glorificus.” Fang said to the woman.

“That’s what her real name was.” Faith offered. “We just called her Glory. What happened to her here?”

“Not really sure. Just what the stories say.” Fang offered. “In her time, there were only three Fal’Cie. Before the rest were created. Legend has it that Glorificus was cast off of Gran Pulse, never to return.”

“Maybe she ended up on Earth.” Faith said. “Makes sense.”

“And you fought her with that?” Lightning asked, looking at Faith’s hammer.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” She said, offering it to the woman. “Not sure what’s so special about it, but it seemed to do a number on her.”

Lightning took it and noticed that it was _extremely_ heavy. She was no slouch in the strength department, but the fact that the girl managed to wield it so effortlessly was very, _very_ impressive. “It’s enchanted.” She said, looking it over closely. “It’s infused with Ruin energy.”

"That explains it," Fang said as she worked. "The kind of damage you did hitting him with Ruin magic has got to be devastating." 

“Huh.” Faith said, taking the hammer back as Lightning offered it. “So what is Ruin magic?”

"Pretty much what it says on the tin," Fang said, turning to Faith. "Ruin's people's shit." 

Faith grinned widely. “Sounds like my kind of magic.”

"You just got here, yeah?" Fang asked her. As Faith nodded, the huntress smiled. "Then my guess is you got nowhere to go. You're gonna need some food, clothes, and shelter." 

“Why do I get the impression you ain’t offering charity?” Faith asked her.

“Because she isn’t.” Lightning said, gently taking the hammer from Faith’s hands. “Start pulling. Put that monstrous strength of yours to use.” She said, pointing toward the King Behemoth. “In New Bodhum everyone works for their food.”

Faith sighed and moved over, gripping the ropes. “How far is it?” She asked.

“Not far. Five, maybe six miles.” Fang said. “Just a good stretch of the legs.”

“Right.” Faith said, shaking her head. “Definitely not heaven.” She said to herself. She began dragging the beast…and was utterly amazed at how easily she was managing it. She knew that the monster had to be more than three thousand pounds, all told. And she was pulling him like he weighed nothing. “Damn.” She said, happily.

Fang and Lightning looked equally shocked. "I would have burst a kidney trying to drag him like that," Fang said to her pink-haired companion. 

"From where I'm from I'm a slayer. I fight vampires, demons, and stuff." Faith explained as she walked. "I'm supposed to be stronger than normal people." 

“So are we.” Lightning said to her. “And we’re nowhere near your level.”

“Yeah, but strength isn’t everything.” Faith said. “Found that one out the hard way.”

"We all gotta learn somehow," Fang said, nodding. "So tell us about yourself." 

Faith was far from the most open person in the world. But she knew that she had a chance to make friends. Given that she was a stranger in a strange land, she quickly understood that she would need all the help she could get. So she talked about her home life, her parents and her upbringing. She glossed over the rougher parts, not wanting to sound like a charity case. She spent most of the time regaling them of her days as a slayer. She briefly considered keeping what happened between her and the Scoobies a secret, but in the end, told the pair of them.

She was actually glad to see that neither woman judged her or seemed to think any less of her. "You've had it rough," Fang said. "In the end, you came through." She suddenly seemed sad. "I wish I could say the same." 

"Fang…" Lightning rested a hand on her shoulder. "Don't." 

“Whatever you did can’t be that bad.” Faith said to the pair.

“And how would you know?” Fang said. If the sharpness of her tone bothered Faith, the slayer didn’t show it.

“Simple.” Faith pointed to Lightning. “She ain’t the type to take in with someone that fucked her over. She wouldn’t be stickin’ it to you every night if you were a horrible person.” Lightning stared at Faith, her eyes wide. “What? Am I wrong?”

Fang couldn’t help but chuckle. “Just met the woman and she’s already one of the smartest people I know.”

“Have you given any thought to how you’re going to get back to your world?” Lightning asked Faith.

She shrugged. “No, not really. No real reason to go back. Don’t have any family. Really didn’t have any friends. B only came and got me because she needed the extra firepower. That and to all of them I’m dead. I died a hero. No reason to fuck that image up by showing back up.” She gave both of them a smile. “And if spending the rest of my life here means I get to stare at the pair of you wearing _that_ , well it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

Fang chuckled and Lightning rolled her eyes. “She sounds like you.” The pink haired woman said to her wife.

"I know," Fang said, looking back at Faith. "I like her already." 

“So what about you two?” Faith asked. “How’d you two meet?”

"First time we actually got to talkin' Sunshine here decked me," Fang said with a wide grin. 

“Seriously?” Faith asked. “You smacked her?”

“I had my reasons.” Lightning said, somewhat sheepishly. “In my defense, she did admit she had a few screws loose.”

Fang moved over and wrapped her arms about her wife from behind. Lightning immediately melted into the embrace. “And Sunshine here put all of them right back into place when she said yes.”

“Jesus. I’m gonna get diabetes watching you two.” Faith said, chuckling.

“What’s diabetes?” Lightning asked.

“Forget it. You two are so sweet on each other it’s not even funny. It is nice to see, though. Makes me all hopeful and shit.”

"On Gran Pulse, anything is possible," Fang said, happily. 

“So you grew up here?” Faith asked her. “Is that why you have an accent and she doesn’t?”

Fang gave her a nod and told Faith her story. Everything she’d gone through. “A few months after Vanille and I turned to crystal, Light here made a plea to Atomos and got him to set us free.”

“Atomos is another one of those Fal’Cie things?” Faith asked.

“He was thought to be just an unintelligent construct, but it turns out he’s quite the opposite.” Lightning said. “Deep in the Mah’habara Subterra, there's an ancient computer that was used to communicate with him."

Fang turned to Faith. “I didn’t know any of this. And I grew up here.”

“Hope and Serah found it.” Lightning offered. “Snow and I went to find it and used it to talk to Atomos. We told him what we’d done, what Fang and Vanille had done and he agreed to free them in exchange for destroying the console.”

“Why would he want the console destroyed?” Faith asked. “If it’s his only means of communication…”

“With the proper input, it could be used to control him. He was afraid of it. We agreed to do as he asked once Fang and Vanille were free.”

"And the rest is history," Fang said, giving her wife a smile. "I asked her to marry me that day. I was still shaking crystal dust off when I popped the question." 

“I didn’t hesitate.” Lightning said. “I knew the moment she rode to me and Hope’s rescue that we’d end up together.”

“Sounds storybook.” Faith said. She was honestly jealous of both women. The look of just pure happiness on their faces as they looked at each other was intoxicating. She desperately hoped that someday she’d be able to look at someone like that.

It wasn't much longer than they reached the large fence that separated the village from the wilds. The settlement was situated on the beach and worked its way up the mountainside. It was obvious that it was constructed with both natural and scavenged materials. Faith found it to be somewhat…homey.

“Welcome to New Bodhum.” Lightning said as she threw back the huge bolt that secured the gate.

"Gonna have to section the Behemoth up before we can get him through here," Fang said, looking at the great beast. 

Faith dropped the ropes and moved around behind the corpse. “Get everyone clear of the other side of the fenceline.”

Fang and Lightning quickly did as she instructed.

With a mighty heave, Faith lifted the dead creature from the ground and lobbed it over the fifteen-foot-high fence. It slammed down onto the sand, causing minor tremors. "There we go." She said, making her way through the gate. "Now you can clean it at your leisure." 

Fang looked at the monster and back to Faith. “It is gonna be _really_ nice having you around.”

Lightning offered Faith back her hammer. “I agree.” She gave her a soft smile. “A pair of strong hands is always good to have around.”

“Fang!” An excited accented voice called from down the beach.

“Incoming.” Lightning said, grinning.


	7. She's a Beauty; Chapter 3

Faith watched as the small red-haired girl threw herself into Fang's arms. The taller woman let out a startled " _Oof_!” as the pair collided. “It’s nice to see you too, Vanille.”

“Welcome back.” The girls said, happily. She then looked at Faith. “Who’s this?”

“This is Faith. She downed the Behemoth and hauled it back to the village from the Steppe.” Fang offered.

“I’m Fang’s sister, Vanille.” She offered her hand to Faith. “Welcome to New Bodhum.”

Faith took her hand. "Pleased to meet you. Gotta say you don't really look like sisters." 

“Well, we’re not by birth, but Vanille and I grew up in the same orphanage when we were kids. Been lookin’ out for each other ever since.”

Faith gave a nod. It made a lot more sense. If that hadn’t been the case, she’d have though Vanille the milkman’s kid. She cast her eyes to the side as another girl, possibly Vanille’s age moved up to the group. Faith could tell immediately that she was related to Lightning. “I see your hunt was successful,” the girl said smiling.

“One hit with this was all it took.” Lightning offered as she lifted the hammer.

The girl took hold of it. The head immediately dropped to the dirt. “Maker.” She said with a grunt. “This is _heavy_.” She looked to Faith. “How do you even _carry_ this?” She managed to lift it, but only just.

Faith shrugged. “It ain’t that heavy to me.” She offered her hand to the younger girl. “Faith. How’s it goin’?”

“Serah.” She took Faith’s hand. “Thanks for helping us out with this monstrosity.” She indicated the Behemoth.

“You must be the Lightning’s little sister.” Said Faith. 

“Yeah. She’s three years older. She got the height, but I got the personality and charm.”

Faith was suddenly thrown off balance as Vanille wrapped her arms around the brunette. “Thank you for bringing our sisters back.” She said, her voice incredibly bubbly. Faith was immediately reminded of Willow.

“Um…” She lightly patted Vanille on the back, awkwardly. “Yeah. No problem.” Even after time in jail and having just saved the Earth, being shown gratitude for what she did made her uncomfortable.

"Alright, give her some space," Fang said, pulling Vanille back. "She's had a bit of a go of it today.”

They were quickly joined by two more individuals. “Looks like the town just got another pretty lady.” This from a tall blonde man in a pair of baggy cargo pants and a black sleeveless shirt.

Serah nudged him hard in the gut. “I’m standing right here.”

He chuckled and rubbed his stomach. “Sorry, babe.” He offered.

“We noticed.” Lightning said, quietly. It was obvious no one was meant to hear her.

Like Vanille and Serah, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Snow. I’m Serah’s husband.”

Faith shook it. “What’s up.” She said to him. “Gotta say, you’re a lucky man.”

"Oh, he knows it," Serah said, grinning up at him.

“For her sake, I hope you’re a gentle giant.” Faith said noticing for the first time the incredible size difference between the two.

"Oh, he is," Serah said, holding him lovingly. "Very gentle."

“Tch.” Lightning spat in disgust. Faith didn’t miss the amused smirk on both Serah and Snow’s faces.

 _Nice to know that, no matter where you are, some things never change_ , she thought.

Lightning turned to a raven-haired woman carrying a rather large rifle staring at the dead Behemoth. "Lebreau?” She turned to Lightning. “You have room in NORA house for a guest?”

Lebreau shifted her eyes to Faith. “I think we can squeeze you in.” She offered her hand. “Lebreau. Part-time cook, part-time bartender, full-time babysitter of this unfortunate collection."

Faith smiled and took her hand. “It is a genuine pleasure to meet you.” She raked her eyes up and down the woman’s rather shapely form. “Please, dear god tell me all that isn’t going to waste on a man.”

Lebreau let out a bright laugh. “God _damn_ you are forward, aren’t you?”

“Saves time.” Faith responded.

Lebreau moved up, standing face to face with the girl. “Well, maybe I want you to take your time.” She playfully bumped her forehead against Faith’s. “You ever think of that?”

Faith immediately threw an arm around the woman and pulled her in, planting a searing hot kiss on her lips. Lebreau was stunned, to say the least. As was everyone else in attendance. 

"Well, she works fast," Fang said, snaring Lightning around her waist and holding her close. 

“Good. I don’t have to worry about her stealing you away from me.” Lightning smiled coyly. “Means I don’t have to shoot her.”

Vanille bounced up and down and clapped giddily. The sight of people in love always made her happy. In fact, there was very little in the world that _didn’t_ make her happy.

Serah looked up at Snow. “Remind you of anything?”

“Nothing I’m willing to admit in front of your sister.” He said, flicking his eyes to Lightning.

“Oh, come off it. Lightning’s not gonna do anything to you.” Serah said, glaring at her sister.

“Don’t be so sure of that.” Lightning growled.

Faith broke off her kiss with Lebreau. “Trust me, beautiful. I get you in a bed, I’ll take all the time in the world.”

Lebreau still had her eyes closed. Slowly she opened them. “Huh?” She asked, breathlessly.

“Care to show me where I can sleep?” Faith asked, deciding to get down to it. “And not to put too fine a point on it, but I need a shower something fierce. Hauling two tons of dead meat across the grasslands is sweaty work.”

"Yeah. Right, this way." Lebreau said, taking the girl's hand. "I'll also make sure you have some clothes to change into. You look to be about my size.”

“We’ll catch up with you later, yeah?” Fang said, waving to Faith. “She’s a good kid.”

Lighting watched her go. “As strong as she is, let’s hope so.”

Fang looked at her wife, then to Serah. “She always been this paranoid?”

Serah eyed her sister. “No.” She said, shaking her head. Lightning smiled at her. “Usually, she’s worse.” The elder Farron’s smile quickly became a frown. “Oh, please. When I was branded as a L’Cie, you thought I was joking. You even threatened to kill me.”

Fang had heard the story before, but she still felt a pang of sympathy for her wife. It wasn’t one of Lightning’s proudest moments. “I never would have hurt you, Serah.”

Serah took her sister’s hands. “I know that, Claire.” She said softly, using Lightning’s real name. Something that only she and Fang were ever allowed to do. “You only said what you did because you thought I was just trying to get attention.” She then pulled her sister in and hugged her tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too Serah.” Lightning likewise held her sibling. She then regarded Snow with narrow eyes.

"Stop glaring at my husband," Serah said as she embraced her sister. "I can feel you trying to will his head to explode.”

“Tch. Fine.” Lightning said, pulling back. “Fang and I are going to skin and section this monster. You might wanna take off. If you find Gadot, tell him to bring the cart so we can get it into the coolers.”

Snow nodded and saluted. “Will do, Sergeant.”

Serah playfully slapped him on the arm and began pushing him toward NORA house. “You keep that up and she _is_ likely to shoot you.”

Lightning watched the pair go with Vanille in tow. “Does it really still bother you to see those two together?” Fang asked her.

Lightning sighed heavily and pulled her skinning knife out. “No, not really.” She looked at Fang with a smirk. “But _he_ doesn’t know that.”

“You’re an evil woman, Sunshine.” She snuck a quick kiss. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

The pair settled in and went to work.

 

Faith stood under the shower and let the steaming hot water rinse away the sweat and the dirt. The past twenty-four hours had been the strangest, hardest and most emotional she'd ever experienced. Being here, in this place was like something out of a dream. Not that she dreamt often, but if she did, then it would be something like this, she was sure. She was surrounded by beautiful women, which in her mind was _always_ a plus, even the boys weren’t bad looking. Snow was a goofball and very much reminded her of Xander, except a _lot_ bigger. Macqui and Yuj both seemed innocent enough and were cute in a little brother sort of way.

Okay, Gadot was a dog, but he was nice enough and had _really_ nice arms. But Faith wouldn’t take in with him on that factor alone. She could see herself liking him though.

Lebreau, however, got her motor revving big time. She wasn’t quite the looker Fang and Lightning were, but Faith wasn’t about to try and poach. The pair were happily married and she wouldn’t fish those waters unless invited. And while Fang seemed a little more open, she could tell Lightning was definitely the jealous type.

She finished up her shower and turned the water off. She stepped out and dried herself off and noticed the clothes that Lebreau had set out for her. She smiled at the skin-tight bike shorts and the loose fitting white blouse. She was relieved to see that the shirt, while thin, wasn't sheer like most blouses seemed to be. She donned the look and tossed the towel into wicker hamper. She exited the bathroom and was immediately assaulted with the smell of grilling meat and vegetables. Her stomach growled loudly. 

“I didn’t know better, I’d say your gut was trying to gnaw through your backbone.” Gadot said from his spot on the sofa. He sat field stripping a large machine gun.

"It's been almost twenty-four hours since I've eaten anything." Faith said, rubbing her stomach. "Lebreau in the kitchen?" Faith asked, looking around. 

“Yeah. She doesn’t trust any of us near fire.” He said, grinning. He ran his eyes up and down Faith’s legs. “It’s nice to have something new to look at.”

Faith had made it abundantly clear to the large man that he had no chance in hell. Gadot understood implicitly but stated outright that he wasn't going to stop trying. It was one of the main reasons why Faith liked him. She dug on a man that wasn't willing to give up. "Okay, I just wanna be clear before I start staking any kind of claims. Is Lebreau single?" 

He gave her a nod. "Yeah, she's kinda married to this place." He motioned to the building around them. "She ain't got time for much else. Women ain't the only ones that like to be the center of someone else's world, you know?" 

“Not exactly the romantic type?” She asked him.

"You could say that. And she won't really consider getting physical with any of us. She's kind of the mother figure around here if that makes any sense. Me, Macqui and Yuj are like her kids.” He shuddered. “Weird vibes.”

“I can see that.” Faith offered. “So none of you have a problem with me…you know?”

Gadot laughed but tried pouting at the same time. "And my hopes and dreams crash to the ground and shatter before my very eyes." 

"Buck up, soldier. You’ll get over it.” Faith offered with a grin as she made her way to the kitchen.

“I’ve still got Vanille.” He said, going back to his work.

That stopped Faith cold. She turned to regard him. “You and Vanille are a thing?” She did _not_ see that coming.

“On and off. We aren’t exclusive or serious. We just spend a night together every now and then. Fang doesn’t seem to mind. She isn’t like Lightning. Fang thinks I’m a good guy and that Vanille can do a lot worse. When Macqui showed interest, Fang threatened to tear his tiny balls off and feed ‘em to him.”

Faith grimaced. “That’s a might harsh. Mack seems like a decent kid.”

“Kid is right. I can fight. Macqui can't. Fang's an old-school hunter from one of the old clans that used to run this world. They're all but extinct now. She and Vanille are the last of their kind. Fang thinks if anyone's gonna put it to her little sister, it has to be someone that can take care of her. Considering that Vanille would kick Macqui’s ass three ways from Sunday, she wasn’t having it. Macqui understood and didn’t really have a beef about it.”

“Sounds like you got lucky.” Faith offered.

“Yeah, I’m not gripin'. Vanille is a minx in the sack."

“She looks the type. Right on, bud.” Faith gave him a thumbs up before heading into the kitchen. She saw Lebreau standing at a large stove, manning what looked like three huge skillets filled with sautéed peppers, what looked to be whole thick green onions, and slices of what Faith could only assume were eggplants. To the side was what looked to be a huge grill with thick steaks of meat cooking away. “Anything I can do to help?” She asked.

Lebreau started as she heard Faith’s voice. “Maker above, you are quiet as hell.”

“Sorry.” Faith said, looking around the kitchen. She noticed a nice metal old school coffee pot and pointed to it. “Anything in that?”

“Oh, yeah. Help yourself. Cups are in the cupboard to your right.” Lebreau offered, going back to cooking.

Faith fished an earthenware mug from the cabinet and set it down, pouring thick dark liquid from the pot. “I’m assuming this is coffee.” She said, putting the pot back.

“Blackroot tea," Lebreau responded, keeping her attention on her pans. “Blackroot is easier to grow and gives a better yield at harvest.”

Faith frowned and took a sip. It wasn't quite as harsh as straight up coffee. It had a nuttier flavor but seemed to have a comparable kick to it. "That's not bad, actually." She moved over and stood beside the brunette. In her bare feet, she noticed Lebreau was just a hair or two taller than she was. In fact, she was fairly certain that, with the possible exception of Vanille and Serah, everyone was taller than her. "That smells really good. You never did answer my question." 

“If you wanna check these peppers and scallions for me, I wouldn’t mind. The eggplant is going to take a bit longer, I think.” She said, moving over to the steaks.

Faith took another sip of her tea, then set it down to check the veggies. “So these green things are scallions? Those are like onions, right?” She leaned down to sniff them.

“Pretty much. They’re not quite as potent and add a bit of a fresher earthier flavor to what you cook them in. They should be just about done if you wanna pull them off.”

“Need me to cut ‘em up? I got some wicked knife skills.” Faith offered.

“Sure, but do me a favor first.” Lebreau pulled a small piece of meat from the grill with a fork and held it up for Faith to taste it. “Tell me how that turned out, would you?”

“What is it?” She asked. It smelled delicious, but it didn’t smell like beef, pork or chicken to her. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure what kind of meat it was.

“This is some of the behemoth you killed today. Gadot brought it over while you were in the shower.”

Faith leaned in and took the bite from the fork, using her tongue to sweep it off the flatware and into her mouth. Lebreau watched the display and swallowed lightly at the sight. She was pretty sure Faith wasn’t sure she was doing it, but the display seemed very sensual to her. _Damn, girl_ , Lebreau admonished herself. _You need to get laid_.

Faith slowly chewed the meat, noticing immediately it's rather tender texture. She had to admit that the flavor was somewhat distinct, it wasn't in any way unpleasant. It was very gamey but still had a wonderful taste. _This shit would make a wicked Philly Cheese-steak_ , she thought as she chewed. “This is pretty damn good, I’m not gonna lie.”

Lebreau smiled at her. “Good. Now get those peppers and onions chopped up so we can eat.”

“You got it, beautiful.” Faith said, taking a large butcher knife from the block on the counter. She was a machine when it came to knife work. While in prison, she opted to work the kitchens in the mornings and afternoons, which gave her access to more food – which was nice given her slayer metabolism – and library in the evening, which allowed her to get her pick of reading material when she was alone in her cell at night. She only slept two to three hours and needed something to pass the time. She could only work out so much in her tiny cell. The rest of her time was spent reading.

Lebreau, for her part, watched as Faith worked the knife flawlessly. "You are gonna be _so_ nice to have around here.”

Faith grinned. “Is that just a nice way of telling me I’m your new kitchen bitch?”

“I prefer the term Chef’s Assistant, but however you wanna spin it.” The woman returned happily.

“Just a word to the wise, I eat like a horse.” Faith said to her. She moved over and poked the eggplant with a fork. “They’re done, I think.”

“Looks like. Go ahead and cube those up if you would.” Faith did as she was instructed. “I kinda figured you did. That’s why I made all this. I don’t normally cook this much.” Lebreau snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. I should have said something before. Vanille has your hammer.”

Faith furrowed her brow and looked at the brunette. “Why?”

“She thought it was fascinating. She’d never seen anything like it. She wanted to study it.” She lifted a hand to assure Faith. “Don’t worry, I told her she couldn’t dismantle it or anything. A distinction you absolutely have to make with Vanille. She said she’d return it in one piece. She just wanted to look it over.”

Faith gave a shrug. “As long as she doesn’t screw it up, I’m okay with it.” She finished with the eggplant and pushed it into the large terracotta bowl with the peppers and onions. “I appreciate you loaning me the threads. Pretty much all I had was the clothes on my back.”

"No problem," Lebreau said, happily. 

“So where am I gonna be sleeping, just out of curiosity?” Faith asked as she lifted her tea.

“I found a nice warm bed for you, don’t worry. We aren’t gonna make you sleep on the floor.” Lebreau offered.

“Seems a pretty tight fit, to be honest.” Faith said. “What with the two of us, Mack, Yuj and Big Red.”

“Well, you’ll have to double up, but I don’t think you’ll mind.”

“Who am I bunking with?” Faith asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

Lebreau gave her a very seductive and mischievous smile. “Guess.” She offered, her voice thick. 


End file.
